In public, I’m apathetic, angsty, and all of these pessimistic words that start with an A. I act like a cynical kid who believes love is only finding someone you can deal with. But underthecovers and through the woods, I’m really a helpless romantic. I dream of Prince Charming coming on his noble mount, with a +2 Longsword in tow, and saving me from any trouble I’m in. (The only reason he needs to do this is because I ran out of spells for the day.) I fantasize about living a nice flat in new york, complete with balcony with vegatable garden. Typing away at a typewriter*, with the sugardaddy of my dreams comes home and asks me how my day went. I also fantasize about sipping coffee with Diablo Cody and having Amy Tan as my landlady, but those are a stretch.

Yet, its really hard to be this cheerily optimistic.

“This email was sent by Sparkey.In total, you were reviewed for dating 45 times and one person expressed interest in you. You are more desirable than 44% of 32,519,537 people. Recently you were viewed 2 times and no people expressed interested in you. Review your dates here. Sparkey is a product of Chainn. “Okay, the whole more desirable than 44 percent of people is a nice touch. Though, out of 45 people, one person expressed interest in me part really hurts. Only .022% of people are interested in me. Wow, this is a shot to my ego, id, and my libido. I know my picture looks like I have a hideous rash all over my face, but please! The whole mechanisim is comparing me to other people, then you click on the one you’re more interested in. I have to be atleast more attractive than most people prowling facebook. Maybe I’m showing to much stress over this.

Its just, when emails like this are sent to me, my whole fantasy of a kickass adventuring duo or literary circle of nirvana crashes. It sets me back to the train of though that, I would probably end up with some douche bag who likes to pee on me, but I dont have a choice because he pays for me addiction (I usually imagine it being heroin, cutting, or sex. But I dont see how he can pay for the latter two) Sure, the house is decent. I could still have my vegtable garden, Though the neighbour’s pet miniature schnowzer keeps getting into it, ruining my beautiful tomatos. I wouldnt have a landlady, much less a cool asian author. My typewriter would be a crappy one that my dubious Melvin (Interchangeable with Phil, Ralph, Bruce, Bob) bought so he could use a saddle on me. My pessimism rises, I desperately check my datecraft* account to see if that nerdy seventeen year old from the UK messaged me back, Did I scare him away with my lame IM name? Is he mad that I dont play anymore?! IS IT ME!?

I could just look at the glass half full aspect though. One person is interested in me. Though, the initial email has made me feel like “gang-green green”. One person, it could be Melvin, Phil, Ralph, Bruce, or Bob. Knowing full well that I would only have one person interested in me, and would be able to use that during sex to get their jollies. Or, it could possibly that one guy that makes my heart sparkle like the spell glitterdust. One can only hope.